


Flames of Anger and Hellfire

by CandyQueenAO3



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Forehead Kisses, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Radio Boys Are Both Doms, Radio Omens, Rough Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Yes two doms can have sex with each other, dom does not strictly equal top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: When Crowley catches Aziraphale playing with Hellfire, he's horrified by the angel's threadbare excuses for doing so, and it quickly spirals into insults and arguments.It then ends in sex.Everything does with these two.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89
Collections: Top Crowley Library





	Flames of Anger and Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @mokiinwarp on Twitter because I said I was tempted to write a porny one-shot based around one of their latest piecs of art featuring the Radio Boys and I'm nothing if not a possum of my word!

_ BANG! _

The bookshop doors slammed open hard enough to crack the spot where the knob met the wall. Crowley stormed into the building, his amber eyes flashing dangerously behind his round, dark lenses. He left the door open behind him, pursued closely by Aziraphale, who mended the damage to the wall with barely an iota of effort.

_ “Really  _ now, dear. You’re making a fuss over  _ noth-” _

He never got to finish his statement before Crowley rounded on him.

_ “‘Nothing’?!  _ That wasn’t  _ ‘nothing’,  _ Aziraphale!” he snarled, fangs slipping past his curled lips. “That was  _ Hellfire!  _ You shouldn’t have even been on the same  _ continent  _ as the stuff, much less  _ playing with it!” _

“I was  _ not  _ ‘playing with it’!” Aziraphale snapped back. “I was  _ trying  _ to see if I could make my sword ignite with it! You never know when Heaven’s going to show up again!”

Crowley flung his arms wide with an expression of utter bafflement. “They’re _never_ going to show up again! Don’t you get it?! Adam made sure of that! The kid practically erased us from the collective memory of _both_ our superiors! I haven’t received orders from Beelzebub in _months,_ and don’t tell me _you’ve_ actually heard something from the Metatron!”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked away, chagrined.

“No. No I haven’t,” he admitted. Then, his face hardened. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared!”

“‘Prepared’?  _ ‘Prepared’?!”  _ Crowley practically shrieked. He suddenly seized Aziraphale by the lapels of his jacket, seemingly intent on shaking some sense into the stunned angel. “Do you have  _ any  _ idea what could have happened had you messed up?! What losing you would  _ do  _ to me?! I come to meet you at the park to feed the ducks, and instead I find you  _ literally playing with fire!” _

The last words were shouted directly into Aziraphale’s face, who immediately brought his hands up to close tightly around Crowley’s wrists.

“Unhand me you little-”

“What? Demon? Snake? Go on, Aziraphale! Tell me how you  _ really  _ feel!”

The angel took a step back, trying to break away from his enraged lover’s furious hold, but Crowley merely tightened his grip. Aziraphale may have had more combat experience, but his demonic counterpart was physically stronger. Aziraphale’s heel caught on the rug and his foot slid out from under him, bringing the two of them - still tangled together - down to the hard bookshop floor. Aziraphale landed with a thump and a wheeze as Crowley’s greater weight pressed down on his chest and those obnoxious glasses skittered away. He expected to feel the sharp crack of his head hitting the floor, but the back of his skull was cushioned by Crowley’s palm, which had come up behind him at the last second to soften the blow.

Aziraphale was momentarily stunned into silence by the tenderness of the gesture. It would seem, even in the depths of his panic and anger, Crowley was still always looking out for him. Aziraphale felt the fight drain out of him, but it quickly returned in full force when Crowley slipped his hand out from behind his head to pin his wrist to the rug with a rumbled threat of, “I should just keep you locked up in this shop. That oughta stop you from doing any further stupid shit…”

Aziraphale’s rage boiled up and out, enraged tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “How  _ dare you!  _ You  _ arrogant, stubborn, selfish-” _

He was silenced by Crowley shoving his free forearm into his mouth.

“‘Selfish’?!  _ Me?!  _ Have you  _ looked  _ in the mirror recently, o’ great Principality Aziraphale?”

He spat the angel’s name as though it were Holy Water on his tongue. Aziraphale bit down on the flesh of his arm and Crowley shouted in pain, but didn’t move it even as the skin bruised beneath the other’s teeth. Seeing as  _ biting  _ wasn’t going to get himself free, Aziraphale writhed where he was pinned, thrashing up to unseat the weight atop him.

Crowley adjusted his position, working a jean-clad leg between the angel’s own. To his surprise - but not really, this was  _ Aziraphale  _ after all - he felt a telling hardness brush against his thigh. A strange mixture of lust, shock, agitation, and smug pride flared up within the demon’s chest. “You filthy little hedonist, you’re getting off to this, aren’t you?” he teased. “Is this what you want? To be helpless at the big, bad demon’s mercy?”

Aziraphale spat something around the arm in his mouth that  _ may  _ have been a muffled “fuck you” but he, pointedly, did not deny it. This was not the first bout of angry sex they’d had (nor would it be the last) so Crowley was uniquely attuned to his angel’s subtle signals for consent. The way Aziraphale’s hips canted slightly upwards, the way defiant blue eyes met taunting gold without looking away, the way the bite shifted subtly to something more of a kiss, all of them told Crowley everything he needed to hear.

An enthusiastic  _ yes. _

Miracling their clothes away with a thought, Crowley cautiously pulled his arm away, the spot where Aziraphale had bitten him shining with spit. Before Aziraphale could say anything, Crowley’s mouth landed on his. Compared to the fire and fury of but a few minutes ago, this kiss was one entirely different. It was soft and sweet, a gentle reassurance that - no matter the cause for the fight - there was always an undercurrent of love beneath their actions.

Crowley released Aziraphale’s wrists, and his strong arms instead wound around his back, pressing their chests close together to feel the matching thrums of their heartbeats separated only by scant inches of bone and sinew. Aziraphale, in turn, entwined his fingers together at the nape of Crowley’s neck and made a high, breathless noise like the chiming of bells.

Neither of them was sure who pulled away first, but it didn’t matter. Aziraphale still glared petulantly (though his eyes shone with an apologetic light), Crowley still glowered ominously (but it was cut through with unbearable fondness), and both of them refused to be the one to back down.

In response, Crowley grit his teeth and gripped Aziraphale by the hips, lifting and spreading his knees. Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly - whether in shock or excitement was anyone’s guess - and wrapped both his legs around Crowley’s waist, hooking them together at the ankles. The feel of Aziraphale keeping him trapped in place was  _ almost  _ enough to send Crowley tumbling into a messy, embarrassingly quick climax, but the demon’s Corporation knew better than to allow such a thing to happen.

Their bodies were very intuitive like that. They always knew  _ just  _ what their owners needed at any given moment, and were prompt to deliver.

In this case, what was needed was a slick, already-prepped hole.

Without wasting another moment, Crowley drove straight into the clenching tightness of the body beneath him as hard as the bookshop floor allowed. In that moment, he wanted  _ nothing  _ more than to fuck his lover hard and fast; to restake his claim and remind Aziraphale of just all they stood to lose through reckless actions. In the deep corners of his blackened heart that Crowley kept locked away from the light of day, he knew that, should he ever be forced to part from his angel through permanent destruction, he wouldn’t be long in following him.

Judging by the fluttering of Aziraphale’s walls around his cock, and the way ten perfectly-manicured nails dug furrows into the expanse of Crowley’s back, Aziraphale felt the same way. That was the beauty of their union. Their love never needed to be spoken when actions were so much louder.

Crowley’s face pinched in concentration as he pulled back out, then drove home again and again, lighting up Aziraphale from within as though each nerve were a live wire. Aziraphale clung to him and wailed.

_ “Crowley!  _ Yes! Yes! Right- right there, oh-”

Crowley rasped out the other’s name and held him tighter. Aziraphale’s body was scorchingly hot, both inside and out, and the feel of the angel around him left Crowley feeling like he’d just taken a shot of the finest whiskey. Aziraphale arched his back, brushing their nipples together, and Crowley increased his pace to get more of that sweet friction around his cock and against his chest. When one particularly well-aimed thrust grazed directly over Aziraphale’s prostate, the blond flung his head back with a breathless gasp. His face was flushed the most fetching shade of red and a single tear slipped from his eye to trace its way to the floor.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Crowley purred. His voice was low and dark. Pure liquid heat. “I wonder what other beautiful sounds I can wring out of you.”

Aziraphale whimpered, embarrassed, and flung an arm over his eyes to hide his face. “N-no, I-” He keened, and Crowley could see the faintest trickle of drool from the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. So prim and proper any other time, but in the throes of passion, Aziraphale was little more than a sloppy mess.

Something wild inside Crowley howled for more at the thought, and he grinned savagely as his desire rose to a crescendo. He withdrew suddenly, leaving Aziraphale bereft and clenching down around nothing. Aziraphale whined. “No! Why’d you-”

He squawked as he was unceremoniously flipped over onto his stomach. He expected to feel the harsh carpet beneath his knees, but was surprised to find that they’d been transported to the plush comfort of the bed they shared in the flat above the bookshop courtesy of a demonic miracle. Aziraphale spared half a second to mentally thank Crowley for preserving the skin of his knees, before he was unceremoniously shoved face-first into the mattress.

The sheets were still rumpled from that morning’s physical exertions and Crowley’s signature cologne of teak and leather still clung to the fibers. He didn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Crowley was gripping him tightly by his narrow hips and pushing back inside. Aziraphale shivered and gasped, tears of pleasure edging on overstimulation coursing down his cheeks. The gasp turned to a  _ scream  _ as Crowley sank his teeth down on the back of his neck where his spine met his shoulders. Despite the heady mix of pleasure-pain, Aziraphale was coherent enough to beg for more with his body, pushing back against Crowley and meeting every thrust until the demon’s hips audibly smacked against his arse.

Nothing in all of creation gave Crowley more of a rush of pride than seeing his angel fall apart underneath him. Seeing Aziraphale moan and writhe was just as intoxicating as it had been in Eden all those millenia ago when Crowley had first had him up against the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Here, in a small, dusty bedroom in Soho, there was different knowledge to be had. It was the knowledge that  _ nobody  _ got to see Aziraphale like this: undone and debauched. No one but Crowley.

Something primal and distinctly snake-like awakened within Crowley at the realization. He shifted his bite from Aziraphale’s neck to his shoulder with just enough pressure for it to bloom pretty teeth-marks without breaking the skin.

Time went a bit fuzzy around the edges, then. Crowley had no discernable way to determine how long they’d been at it since he first miracled them to somewhere comfier (he’d gotten rid of his watch along with the rest of their clothes), but the fading light in their bedroom spoke to at  _ least  _ a couple of hours.

He’d lost count of how many sobbing, shaking orgasms Aziraphale had been brought to. The only way to somewhat quantifiably measure them would be by the small pool of semen that had accumulated underneath him and now thoroughly ruined the bedspread. Crowley was unsure of his own number as well, but the obscene squelch of come being pushed out of Aziraphale to dribble down his quivering thighs with every thrust pointed to the fact that there had been at  _ least  _ a few.

Crowley’s demonic stamina was on the brink of giving out, but he’d be  _ damned  _ (again) before he tapped out without giving his angel - his  _ everything  _ \- one last orgasm for the road. Doubling over until his forehead was pressed between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades, he snuck a large hand beneath the angel to grasp at his cock and begin pumping.

“I know you’ve got one more for me,” he growled into a flushed ear. Aziraphale keened, and it was hard to tell if it was from pleasure or discomfort at the feel of sticky ejaculate coating his length. “Come on, angel. Give me one more and then you can rest.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitched once, twice, and then he came with a feeble cry. The moment he did so, his wings  _ exploded  _ outwards from his back and scattered powdery down across the room. Crowley’s eyes, now fully serpentine, practically bugged from his head. The sight of pearlescent, if somewhat neglected in the grooming department, wings twitching in the throes of Aziraphale’s peak was what sent Crowley over the edge for the final time that night.

He spilled inside Aziraphale with a shout that was more animal than man with an orgasm that could be felt all the way in his  _ toes. _

After a long moment spent coming down from the post-orgasm high, Crowley reluctantly slid out of Aziraphale’s body, letting the angel drop to the bedspread and accidentally directly down into his own puddle of Heavenly spend. Crowley winced in sympathy and snapped it away, resetting their bed to rights. He watched as Aziraphale winched his wings back in with hardly a sound. Chest heaving with exhausted pants, Crowley reached down and gently took one of Aziraphale’s hands in his and began rubbing at the digits.

“Aziraphale, you alright?” he asked. His voice was tender in stark contrast to the growling harshness of earlier, and sounded downright apologetic.

Aziraphale was silent where he lay, face tilted to the side and wet with tears and drool like something out of a tawdry magazine. Then, in the silence of their room, he hiccuped, “‘M not… not stupid…”

Crowley sighed and his shoulders slumped. Now that the anger was gone, he felt like a right knob for insulting his angel like that. All he’d wanted was for Aziraphale to see how risky playing with Hellfire was, and how  _ scared  _ Crowley had been when he walked into the park and saw it there. The demon’s heart had clenched so tightly that it physically  _ hurt  _ and he’d marched straight over to snatch the fire away from Aziraphale to extinguish within his palm. Where had he even  _ gotten it?!  _ The fight had escalated from there to a near-shouting match in the middle of Saint James, culminating in them returning home and ending their duck-feeding trip prematurely.

Crowley sighed again and carefully turned Aziraphale over so that he was lying on his back. Crowley laid down beside him and pulled the now-clean comforter over both of them as he gathered Aziraphale to his broad chest.

“No. You’re not stupid,” he admitted. “I was just… I was just so  _ scared  _ and I- I reacted poorly. You were reckless, yes, but you could  _ never  _ be stupid.”

Aziraphale let out a noise that was like a small, wheezing chuckle. “Indeed. That would be more  _ your  _ prerogative.”

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes fondly.  _ There  _ was that bit of bastard he knew and loved. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s forehead.

“Right. Well, I suppose that gives me carte blanche then to go and see about making a martini out of Holy Water.”

Aziraphale weakly batted at his pectoral.

“Don’t you  _ dare,”  _ he slurred.

This time Crowley gave a genuine bark of a laugh. The two of them lay entwined in silence for a moment before Aziraphale spoke up. “I… I’m sorry for frightening you.”

Crowley squeezed him tighter. “Angel, I will  _ always  _ protect you. Just like I know you’ll always protect  _ me.  _ We’re on our own side, as we’ve always been. So please,  _ please,  _ don’t do anything so dangerous ever again. And if you  _ must,  _ at least let me help.”

Aziraphale made a sleepy little noise and nodded once. Near dizzy with relief, Crowley turned to bury his nose atop sandy-blond hair and inhale deeply the scent of peonies that was uniquely Aziraphale as he felt the angel in question drop off to sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

  
Aziraphale twisted in the bedsheets and grumbled, pulling them over his head as the first rays of morning sunshine trickled in through the bedroom window. Good Heavens his entire body  _ ached!  _ It was a delicious feeling, though, and couldn’t resist a contented noise akin to a purr. Beside him, the bed was empty, which was highly unusual seeing as Crowley preferred to sleep in most days. Aziraphale, for his part, was usually up before dawn.

The angel stuck a hand out of the blanket lump and groped blindly for the demon who  _ should  _ have been beside him. He popped a sleep-rumpled head out.

“Hng… Crowley?”

As though in answer, the bedroom door creaked open and Crowley stepped in. He was once more fully dressed in his standard dark dress shirt and jeans, but with the addition of a frilly red apron reading:  _ Hot and Spicy.  _ His eyes were trained intensely on the tray of pancakes balanced precariously in his hands as he nudged the bedroom door open with his hip. Aziraphale snorted softly at the comical sight he made. It was clear that Crowley still felt somewhat bad about their argument last night. Aziraphale stifled a snort, then burrowed back under the blankets.

He waited silently until he heard Crowley clear his throat.

“I made breakfast…”

Seized by a slight bout of pettiness (read: mischief) Aziraphale huffed, “Go  _ away.” _

He bit down on his knuckle to hide his giggle. But when he heard Crowley mumble, “Oh… okay…” he sprung up from the covers with a laugh.

Crowley nearly dropped the tray, but caught it again. His glasses hung crookedly from his nose and he blinked owlishly. Then, he grinned.

“Oh! Feel like being a bit of a brat this morning? Fine. I’ll just go eat this  _ myself.” _

Saying so, he turned smartly on his heel and marched out of the room. Aziraphale stared after him, aghast.

“Crowley? Crowley?! Get back here you-”

Aziraphale wrapped the sheets around his middle and took off in hot pursuit of his wayward partner. Upon reaching the kitchen, he was caught by a pair of familiar arms and swept into a passionate kiss. The movement jostled the sheet loose and it slipped free to pool around the floor at Aziraphale’s feet. It mattered little, though, as Aziraphale did what he  _ always  _ would as far as Crowley was concerned.

He wrapped his arms around his husband and kissed back.

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever mentioned how hard I adore the Radio Drama?


End file.
